


To whose sound chaste wings obey

by JamieDragon



Series: Hope is the thing with feathers [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Chronic Pain, Dubious Consent, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Bad Time, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Suicidal Thoughts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieDragon/pseuds/JamieDragon
Summary: Having physically recovered from their meeting with Jaskier's former owner, he and Geralt search for answers regarding Jaskier's heritage. Geralt wants nothing more than to free Jaskier from all his torments, and Jaskier tries his best to also recover mentally.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Hope is the thing with feathers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944049
Comments: 159
Kudos: 356





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my old readers: Welcome back!! :D  
> To my new readers: Welcome!! :D If you haven't read part 1, I suggest doing so, as things probably will make more sense then.
> 
> I have... almost decided on a plot. Tags and warnings will be updated as I go, so don't forget to check. Don't want to hurt or trigger anyone. ♡
> 
> I AM sure of what Jaskier is now, which is exciting. When I started writing part 1, I only knew I wanted him to have wings, and decided that it could be a mystery as to what and how and why he is. But then you lovely people started asking, and I started wondering too, and then I was suddenly just hit with the answer. So yes, there will be some answers (and maybe new questions) in this part.
> 
> I really hope you will continue enjoying my incoherent ramblings... I mean... my very thought out story.  
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Love you all!! ♡
> 
> (Title from "The Phoenix and The Turtle" by Shakespeare)

Jaskier pulled the cloak as tight around himself as possible, but it didn't help much. The rain had been falling for the last couple of hours, soaking through his clothes and into his very soul, and in combination with a somewhat strong wind, he was left shivering. Thankfully, they had stepped through the city gates only minutes ago.

Usually, Jaskier would prefer to not be around people, and especially not the amount of people who would live in a city of this size. But for once, he wasn't too averse to the situation. The terrible weather left the streets almost completely empty, he had Geralt with him if anything were to happen, and he really didn't wish to spend the night cold and wet and miserable under a tree. When Geralt had pointed towards the city, still in the distance at that time, Jaskier had felt almost solely relieved. Almost.

He huddled with their bags under a mostly waterproof roof, while Geralt made sure Roach got a good spot and plenty of food in the stable. Jaskier didn't really think he could feel more cold, so it wasn't actually a problem to wait, but he was still happy when he could follow Geralt into the inn. The witcher had offered him the option to head in and wait in the taproom, but Jaskier hadn't dared, and Geralt hadn't pressed.

Stepping into the three storey building, Jaskier felt slightly better in some ways and slightly worse in others. The big taproom was warm and dry, but it was also filled with townspeople. He stayed close to Geralt, trying to ignore the looks and whispered conversations around them. He was more than happy to leave the taproom, and climb the stairs to the second floor and their room.

"You okay?" Geralt asked, taking off his swords and putting them on the table. 

Jaskier nodded without thinking, but a raised eyebrow from the witcher made him answer more honestly. "I'm really cold." It wasn't like he could really hide that, with his whole body shivering.

"I ordered a bath. And food. It should warm you up."

As if summoned by Geralt's words, there was a knock on the door. Jaskier kept out of the way, trying to not hide in a corner, while their small space was invaded by strangers carrying buckets of hot water. His shoulders relaxed a bit when the barmaids left and the door closed again, and even more so when Geralt locked it.

"Take your clothes off, so you don't get sick."

Jaskier nodded again. Dropping the cloak to the floor was easy, but he hesitated with the rest of his clothes. He didn't really want to remove them, but he knew he couldn't keep them on either.

"I can leave while you bathe," Geralt offered.

"No, I… Stay. Please? I don't want to… be alone." Jaskier glanced at the locked door, trying not to imagine what would happen if Geralt wasn't there and someone broke in. "Please?"

"I'll stay," Geralt nodded.

There was no screen or other kind of divider, but Geralt moved a chair so that it's back was towards Jaskier and the bath. He pulled off his boots and outer layers of clothing, before sitting down.

"Thank you," Jaskier said quietly, as the witcher started sharpening his weapons.

"Hm."

"You don't want to go first?"

"You're more cold," Geralt said without turning around, "and more likely to get sick. I can wait."

The hot water almost burned his frozen skin, as Jaskier sunk down in the bathtub. However, it didn't take long before the only things he felt were warmth and sleepiness, and he closed his eyes for a little while.

He thought that it should feel rather threatening to have someone sharpening swords nearby, but Jaskier had come to associate the rhythmic sound with Geralt, with safety. Opening his eyes again, he watched the witcher as he worked.

He hadn't completely forgiven Geralt yet. Logically, he knew and understood the reasons for what Geralt had done. But emotionally, it still hurt to have the only person he trusted forcing upon him the thing he hated most. It was a difficult clash of feelings. Jaskier had still decided to give Geralt another chance. After everything the witcher had done for him, Jaskier couldn't refuse him that. And he desperately wanted to trust the man. It had been about a week, and his body had mostly returned to its normal level of aches and pains. If Geralt hadn't taken him to the mage, Jaskier would still be in agony. If he'd been alive at all.

Using the provided soap, he cleaned himself as quickly as possible. Scrubbing away mud from the rain soaked road, and thoroughly washing his hair.

He was almost about to step out of the tub, when he remembered his wings. Of course, he hadn't  _ actually  _ forgotten about them. But being so used both to hiding them and to only do the barest minimum of cleaning while sitting in a cold stream somewhere, the idea of washing the wings had barely dawned on him. But now that it had, he longed for it.

They looked terrible, he knew. Not solely the fact that they were wrong and hideous to begin with, but also on in regard to cleanliness. They were matted and dusty, with seemingly every feather out of line, and he had barely spent any time removing loose and damaged feathers during the last months.

And still, he should probably hurry up. Let Geralt have his turn in the bath.

He glanced at the witcher, who still sat with his back turned towards him. The sight spread a small warmth in his chest.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"I- ah… My wings…"

The witcher's head lifted, though he still didn't turn. "What about them? Are they injured? Do you need a healer?"

"No. No, I- They're fine. I just wondered if… Would it be alright if I washed them? It might take a little while, and I don't want you to have to wait longer than necessary."

"Your wings are a part of you," Geralt said, clearly relaxing again. "You are necessary. I don't mind waiting."

Jaskier still hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Geralt seemed to contemplate his next words. "But I can help if you want. Make it go a bit quicker."

There were several long moments of silence, as Jaskier tried to decide if his heart was beating faster out of fear or from wanting to know how Geralt's hands would feel on his wings.

"If I want you to stop… will you?"

"Of course."

He nodded, before remembering that Geralt couldn't see that. "Okay. I… I don't mind help. I think."

As Geralt moved his chair closer, sitting down behind him, Jaskier pulled his knees towards himself in an attempt to hide his nudity a little. But the witcher apparently thought there were better ways, because Geralt reached for a towel and simply dropped it into the water, allowing it to cover Jaskier.

"So. How do you do this?"

Jaskier tried his best to not completely tense up at the knowledge of what he had agreed to. "I don't know. I mean, I don't really… have a technique or anything. I just… wash them."

"Alright. Just wash them." Even though he couldn't see Geralt's face, he thought he detected a smile in his voice. "Let me know if I do anything wrong."

Jaskier could only nod, his voice having left him. He almost wanted to tell Geralt that he'd changed his mind. The memories of all the previous hands which had pulled, tugged, grabbed, was filling his mind until he wasn't sure if he still remembered to breathe.

And then, there was a touch, so soft and gentle, and Jaskier almost cried. Geralt's hands, always looking so big and strong and rough, ever so carefully poured water over his wings, untangled feathers, smoothed over unruly down.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Geralt sounded worried, his hands pulling away, and Jaskier realized he hadn't completely managed to hold back a small sob.

"No, you didn't," he said quickly, not wanting Geralt to think anything was wrong. "It… it feels nice."

The hands returned almost immediately, and Jaskier felt his shoulders relax and his eyes slip shut. For a while he was almost lost in the sensation, before he remembered he was supposed to wash the other wing. If Geralt was left with all the work, it would defeat the plan of making his bath shorter.

And still, in that moment, Jaskier never wanted to leave that tub ever.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they worked, finally being broken by Geralt.

"I've been thinking…"

Jaskier stayed quiet, waited. 

"I know you want to hide them, and I agree that it's probably best to do so around people. But I don't want you to bind them like you did before. You could really hurt yourself."

"They take so much room if I don't," Jaskier mumbled. Since the cliff, he hadn't been binding the wings. But that was mostly due to a lack of string or fabric strips, and the fact that his wings probably needed a little rest after being broken so badly. However, not forcing them as close to his body as possible, made his perceived hunchback seem bigger, making more people stare. Jaskier had had every intention to bind them again, as soon as possible.

"I understand that," Geralt continued. "But there might be another way. I have a… friend. She stays in this city right now. She's a mage, and-"

"No!" Jaskier felt his whole body freeze up again.

"No, magic. I promise." Geralt rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades, and Jaskier relaxed a bit under the comforting touch. "There won't be any magic you don't agree to. I just want to talk to her, see if she has any suggestions. You don't have to come along if you don't want to."

Jaskier hesitantly shook his head. "No, I… I don't want to be alone." Turning his head, he met Geralt's golden eyes. "No magic? You promise?"

The witcher nodded. "No magic."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been having some pretty terrible weeks, with my depression hitting me hard and not really allowing me to write (or do anything). But tonight I managed to finish this chapter. Since I came up with the idea of what Jaskier is, I've been pretty excited to write this. Though the parts I'm most excited about are also always the parts I'm most nervous about showing you all. I hope you will like it ♡

It was still dark outside when a small whimper woke Geralt from his sleep. Sitting up, he leaned closer to the bed and carefully ran his fingers through Jaskier's hair. The younger man was still asleep on his stomach, his wings now and then fluttering anxiously.

The nightmares had returned with a vengeance. There was hardly a single night that Jaskier didn't wake crying and shivering. Each time, Geralt cursed Witold even more than before, and did his best to comfort the bard. He wished that they could once again hold each other's hand while they slept, mostly because it had seemed to give Jaskier a sense of safety, but also because Geralt missed the feeling, even though he wasn't sure he'd admit that if asked. However, Jaskier had yet to initiate, and Geralt didn't want to push him.

Instead, he tried to calm the bard's dreams or, if he woke, comfort him until morning came or Jaskier fell back asleep. 

It took a little while, each distressed sound like a knife in Geralt's heart, but soon Jaskier's furrowed brow smoothed out again, and his wings relaxed. Geralt tucked him in, feeling only a little embarrassed, before returning to his bedroll on the floor. Laying there, he watched Jaskier to make sure the nightmare didn't return.

He thought back to last night, when they'd arrived at the inn after walking through the rain. Though all three of them had felt pretty miserable, Geralt still smiled at the recollection. He really hadn't thought Jaskier would accept his offer of help, and the fact that he had really felt like progress. He hoped it wouldn't turn out to be a one time thing. With all the help Jaskier gave him when he needed to be patched up after a hunt, it would be nice to give something back. Rubbing his legs when they ached felt like nothing compared to the fact that Jaskier had saved his life at least once.

And then there was the reaction Jaskier had had. Like no one had ever touched his wings with any kind of care or gentleness. Though he probably shouldn't be surprised, that thought still made Geralt's blood boil. The bard deserved so much better. He had a strong urge to find anyone who had ever hurt Jaskier, and punch them in the face. _At least_ punch them. Plenty of them most likely deserved worse.

Making himself more comfortable, he thought nervously about the next day. He had an idea of how to, hopefully, help Jaskier be a bit more confident around people. He just hoped that the inevitable talk of magic wouldn't cause Jaskier more distress. And that Yennefer wouldn't scare him off completely.

Yennefer barely looked surprised the next day, as she opened the door to the big house she was residing in.

"Geralt. Fancy seeing you here."

"Yen," he nodded, giving her half a smile.

The witch's violet eyes moved to Jaskier, who hid behind Geralt like an anxious shadow. "It's unlike you to pick up strays."

"This is Jaskier, my…" He hesitated a second, suddenly unsure of what to call the bard. "...friend."

Yennefer raised her perfect eyebrows, clearly noticing his slight paus, but didn't comment on it.

"Jaskier, this is Yennefer, who I was telling you about."

"The one he comes to when he needs help with something," she said dryly.

Geralt could feel Jaskier gripping the back of his shirt. "It's a p- pleasure to meet you," Jaskier answered, his voice quiet and nervous.

Yennefer looked him over, though Geralt wasn't sure how much of Jaskier she could actually see as the younger man stayed behind him. After a moment, her eyes softened slightly, and she stepped aside to let them in. "I was just having some tea. I'll get some more."

Geralt nodded. "Thank you."

Though the rain had stopped, it was still rather chilly outside, and the threat of more rain hung in the air. Some tea was very much welcomed in that kind of weather, and hopefully it would calm Jaskier a bit too. As the door closed behind them, he could hear the younger man's heart speed up.

"Don't worry, you can trust her," he said, giving Jaskier a reassuring smile. "There won't be any magic you don't agree to."

Jaskier nodded, and gave Geralt the faintest of smiles back.

"So what have you gotten yourself into this time?" Yennefer asked, handing her guests a mug each.

They had settled into comfortable armchairs in Yennefer's parlour. The sorceress sat across from them, regarding them with a piercing gaze. Jaskier sat to the right of Geralt, and the witcher couldn't completely figure out if his place at the edge of the armchair was because of nerves or because his wings didn't allow him to really lean back. Maybe it was a combination of both.

"I haven't gotten into anything," Geralt answered, and glanced towards Jaskier. "We just wanted to ask you about maybe getting a glamour. See if that would be an option, if Jaskier decides he wants one."

Yennefer almost rolled her eyes. "Really, Geralt? You do know it's possible to visit people because you want to? You don't actually need to come up with an excuse."

"I'm well aware. But this wouldn't be just to hide a scar or too pointy ears. Plus we need someone we can trust. You seemed like the obvious choice."

Yennefer looked between the both of them. "Fine. I'll bite. What would you need the glamour for?"

Geralt turned towards Jaskier, who looked slightly pale and held his mug of tea like it was a lifeline. "It's alright. You can show her."

"You won't leave?" Jaskier asked, barely above a whisper.

"I won't."

The younger man nodded and put down his tea. Geralt noted that he hadn't taken so much as a sip. Seemingly without the courage to look at Yennefer, Jaskier pulled off his shirt.

Yennefer's eyes widened, and Geralt couldn't help but feel a bit of smug satisfaction. It wasn't often something surprised the sorceress.

"I see." She nodded slowly. "Well, they're too big to simply hide. I doubt people would be less suspicious if they ran into something they can't see."

Geralt sighed. "So a glamour wouldn't work?"

"I didn't say that," she snapped. "We would have to hide them completely, making them impossible to both see and touch. You were right to come to me." She reached a hand towards Jaskier, but stopped. "Can I touch them?"

Jaskier looked hesitant at her. "I would rather that you don't, if… if that is alright?"

She nodded, and gave the bard a slight smile. "It is. Though I might have to touch them later, in order to get the glamour right. But we'll do that when you're comfortable with it."

"Thank you," Jaskier answered, the relief clear in his voice. He quickly pulled the shirt back on and returned to the armchair.

Geralt gave his arm a little pat, ignoring Yennefer's lifted eyebrows.

"I'm curious how you got them though," she said, turning to Jaskier again. "You clearly aren't completely human."

"Yen," Geralt growled.

"No offence, of course," she added, giving Geralt an unimpressed look.

"No, I… I understand," Jaskier said, once again seeming to find comfort in holding the warm tea mug. "I just… I don't know."

Geralt couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. Though he didn't want to pry, he _was_ curious to learn more about Jaskier. And not just about his wings.

"I think I'm just human," Jaskier continued. "With, I guess, extra parts?"

Yennefer looked slightly doubtful. "How long have you had them?"

"All my life."

"You were born with them?"

"I… Yes."

Yennefer leaned back in her armchair. "Well, no human is simply born with wings without reason. There would most likely have been some magic involved."

Jaskier glanced at Geralt. "Well… I… I was told that…" He shook his head slightly. "It was a long time ago, before I left home, so I might not remember correctly, but… I was told that my p- parents couldn't have children, so they asked a sorceress for help, and then they… had me."

"If there was anything wrong, the fault must have laid with your father," Yennefer said. "A barren womb can't sustain a child, however that child was put there. Believe me." She sipped her tea thoughtfully. "But neither is it possible to simply create life from nothing."

"So we still don't know anything," Geralt concluded.

"Not necessarily." Yennefer looked between the two of them. "It's not possible to _create_ life, but it is possible to _transform_ life."

"How?" Jaskier asked, sounding both worried and hopeful. 

"You can change one life form into another. But that's a very difficult spell, with a high risk of failure. For example, resulting in the transformation not being complete."

"Like if you changed a bird into a child," Geralt mumbled as realisation struck him.

"Exactly."

Jaskier just stared at the sorceress, clearly trying to process what she had said. "So… I… was a bird before?" he asked, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"Yes and no. If I'm correct, and I usually am, your life force was once that of a bird, but _you_ were never a bird. It's a bit like… Well, you need an egg to make a cake, but no one would say that a cake was previously an egg."

Jaskier nodded slowly.

"What I'm curious about, is what happened to the magic."

Geralt frowned slightly. "What do you mean? What magic?"

"Like I said, the spell most likely went wrong. But it would have taken a lot of magic to even attempt that spell, and magic doesn't just disappear." Yennefer looked at the stunned bard. "The part that didn't do as it was meant to must have gone somewhere. Do you have any magical powers?"

"I don't think so." Jaskier answered, before looking at Geralt as if the witcher would know. Geralt just shrugged.

Yennefer nodded. "It might not even manifest as something you can consciously control. It's just as possible to make your lifespan longer, or help you heal faster, or enhance a sense or ability. It's impossible to say. Though I suspect you'll notice it sooner or later."

"Oh."

Yennefer rose from her chair and disappeared into an adjacent room.

Geralt took the opportunity to place a hand on Jaskier's arm, making him jump and look up at Geralt, clearly having been lost in thought. "Are you okay? You look a little… dazed."

"No, I'm fine," Jaskier nodded, trying but not completely managing a smile. "It's just a lot to take in."

"It doesn't really change anything. You're still you."

This time, Jaskier _did_ smile, though faintly. "Thank you."

Yennefer returned, putting an open book on the table in front of them and pointing towards a drawing of a bird. "Here. This jay, _Garrulus glandarius_ , would be my guess. It's not exactly the same of course, but that's not surprising really."

Without taking his hand from Jaskier, Geralt leaned closer to study the drawing. The bird's colouring was a bit lighter and more towards the red than the warm brown of Jaskier's wings. But there was no mistaking the patch of shimmering blue on each wing, and the way the feathers got darker further down.

Beside him, Jaskier stared at the drawing, and Geralt could clearly sence the turmoil in the way his heart beat faster.

"Keep it." They both looked up as Yennefer spoke, her soft eyes on Jaskier. "If you want it. Keep the book."

"Can I?" he whispered, and Geralt felt him tremble.

"Yes. Birds were never really one of my interests. The book is yours." She glanced at Geralt. "And I'll make you a glamour, if you want it."

Jaskier tensed in the armchair, hesitating several long moments. "Would it hurt?"

"No."

"Could I take it off whenever I wanted?"

"Yes. In fact, I'd recommend that you don't wear it if it's not necessary. The glamour will have to be stronger than most, and keeping it on all the time won't be good in the long run."

Jaskier nodded, first slowly and then more decisively. "Geralt says that he trusts you. So I trust you too."

Geralt tried to hide a smile, even though he could see in Yennefer's eyes that she noticed. "I'm happy you do," she smiled at Jaskier, and rose elegantly from her chair. "Give me an hour or two, and I should have it done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if latin is a thing in the witcher world (probably not) but I went with it anyway.  
> Usually I quite enjoy Yennefer and Jaskier bickering, but Jaskier in this story needs more people who are nice to him.  
> Also, it's my birthday on monday, if anyone wants to say congrats. (Or like... make fanart and blow my mind or something (Though I really really don't expect anyone to do that, so absolutely no pressure. I'm just happy you want to read what I write. THAT TOO blows my mind.))
> 
> Love you all ♡


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, Samhain, and All Saint's Day! Whatever you celebrated this weekend. Hope you had a good time. ♡  
> I'm sorry I've been so bad at answering comments lately. I have a looot I haven't replied to yet. But I will answer every single one, I promise. And I've read all of them at least once, most more than that.  
> Thank you also to everyone who wished me a happy birthday (it was 26th October). You all made me so happy.  
> Hopefully this chapter will make you happy in return. Lots of feelings for our poor boy.  
> Hope you are all doing well and stay safe. ♡  
> And good luck to my fellow wrimos! Just post a comment if you want to be writing buddies. I need more! ^_^

Jaskier decided that Yennefer, at first sight, was terrifying. Just like Geralt. And while he knew that the witcher could probably break his neck with just one hand, Yennefer seemed like she wouldn't need  _ any _ hand. But he trusted Geralt to not take him to anyone who actually wanted to kill him.

Still, he didn't really dare to meet the mage's eyes, though when he did, she only looked at him with kindness and, perhaps, curiosity. Besides calling him a stray when they first showed up at her door (and he wasn't sure he could actually argue that he  _ wasn't  _ a stray) she had been nothing but nice, if rather forward. Being forward felt like a good thing though. Somewhat of a relief. Jaskier was pretty sure that if she wanted him gone or hurt or anything really, she would be very open with that. He couldn't stop trying to discern any hidden motives, he was too used to it, but he could worry slightly less about missing something important.

The fact that she had left the room also helped. 

Jaskier glanced at Geralt, and wondered how long he and Yennefer had known each other. Geralt had tried following the sorceress to the next room, perhaps wanting to catch up a bit, but had almost immediately been ordered back to the parlour so Yennefer could work in peace. Geralt had grumbled a bit, but hadn't sounded properly angry, and after browsing the bookcase in the corner, he had returned to Jaskier's side. At the moment, the witcher was lost in a book which, to Jaskier, seemed dauntingly thick.

It was comfortable to sit there with Geralt, each with a book, with the cracking of the fire and the turning of pages being the only sounds. Despite his nervousness regarding the glamour, it felt peaceful.

Jaskier looked down at the book in his lap.  _ His _ book. The thought was slightly overwhelming, and he carefully turned the pages, not wanting to accidentally rip or fold the paper.

With all the thoughts running through his head, he wasn't really trying to read. He  _ could  _ read, just not very well. He had been so young when he left his parents, far from done with any tutoring he would have had if he had stayed there. If he had been what his parents wanted. And after he left… Reading and writing wasn't really skills Witold had deemed it important for him to have. Jaskier had still tried to practice, despite going long periods without anything to practice  _ with. _

But now he had a book! He would be able to read whenever he wanted! He hoped Geralt wouldn't think it was a waste of time. But since the witcher seemed content with his overly big book, it would probably be alright for Jaskier to practice from time to time.

Not right now though. With this new knowledge about himself, and waiting for magic made especially for him, he was far too anxious to even try to make it through the scientific names in the book. Luckily, it was full of colourful illustrations of all the birds described.

Time and time again, he returned to the page with the jay. He couldn't pretend that it wasn't rather pretty. Whoever had done the illustrations had made sure to capture the way the blue patches shimmered. It was very difficult to reconcile the image of the beautiful bird with his own hideousness. Maybe Yennefer and Geralt had been wrong, and this wasn't the right bird at all. Though the thought made him suddenly wish that he actually had something in common with the shimmering and carefree creature.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Yennefer reappeared in the doorway. "Jaskier. I need you."

Jaskier felt his nervousness spike, and hugged the book to his chest as if that would be able to muffle the sound of his heart picking up speed. He rose from the armchair, and glanced at Geralt.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Jaskier nodded, not really trusting his voice.

They followed Yennefer to what seemed to be some kind of room for working her magic. Jars and wooden boxes fought for space among tools and dried plants, on the workbench, the table, in the bookshelf, and hanging from the ceiling. Even with his aversion to magic, Jaskier couldn't help but feel curious at the sight of it all.

"Right." Yennefer nodded. "Shirt off."

Jaskier flinched slightly at the order, and for a moment he contemplated just running away.

"If you're comfortable with that," Geralt said from behind him, and Jaskier felt one of those strong hands come to rest on his shoulder, grounding him. 

Yennefer turned towards them. "Yes, of course. We can do it with it on, but it's better to make sure the glamour works as intended." She gave him a smile. "But we can wait."

"No, it's… it's fine." Taking strength from Geralt's presence, Jaskier carefully put the book on an empty chair, and pulled the too big shirt over his head.

"Firstly, I need to know exactly what you want hidden." Yennefer's eyes were still kind, though they had a sharp focus now. "The wings, as we said. I assumed you'd want the brand gone? But that can be changed if you'd rather not."

Jaskier's hand moved to the slave brand almost by its own accord. He had been too focused on hiding the wings that hiding anything else hadn't even occurred to him. But now that he was offered the possibility to have the mark gone, at least when he wore the glamour, he very much wanted that.

"Thank you. If that isn't a problem?"

"Not at all," she smiled. "Much less difficult. How about your other scars?"

Jaskier hesitated. Part of him wanted to say yes to that too, but at the same time he didn't want to hide  _ everything  _ about himself. The scars, though not very pretty to look at, were far easier for others to accept.

And then there was Geralt.

Jaskier hadn't really counted to see which of them had the most scars, and he wasn't very interested in finding out, but he knew that the witcher had a lot. Despite this, Geralt was beautiful. The scars didn't change that at all. And even though he couldn't exactly say that to the witcher, Jaskier didn't want Geralt interpreting him getting rid of his own scars as a sign that he didn't like Geralt's either.

"Jaskier?" said witcher asked from behind him, making Jaskier realise that he'd taken a long time to answer.

"Sorry." He offered them both a nervous smile, and hoped that Geralt wasn't able to guess his thoughts. "The scars can stay. I don't mind them as much. And I don't… want to remove all of me."

Yennefer nodded, her eyes for a moment almost looking sad, though Jaskier supposed he was imagining that. "Geralt, will you get the mirror from the bedroom?"

Geralt frowned slightly. "Can't you just magic it here?"

"I can," she answered, rolling her eyes. "But I'm 'magicing' something more important right now. Besides," she winked at Jaskier, "what use is a strong man if not as something to watch as he carries around heavy things?"

Jaskier blushed slightly, but couldn't completely hold back a smile.

Geralt left to get the mirror, making all the right noises of being annoyed and inconvenienced. But it was too exaggerated to be truly convincing.

"Here it is." Yennefer had returned to the workbench, and held up a necklace for Jaskier to see. It was a pretty blue stone on a silver chain.

"Is that the glamour?"

"It is."

"But it's so nice. Too nice! I can't…"

"Nonsense," Yennefer interrupted. "It brings out your eyes."

"But… wont people think I stole it?" Jaskier asked helplessly.

"Not after you've gotten some new clothes which fit you better."

Jaskier felt a streak of panic mix in with his anxiety. "I c- can't… It's not… I don't deserve things like that, people will know that. They… I d- don't want to be punished for thinking too highly of myself."

Yennefer sighed, though it sounded less like annoyance and more like his words made her sad. Jaskier wasn't sure which option would be worse. "I suspect you could think quite a lot higher of yourself before anyone would say it's too much," she said. "I know what it's like to have people tell you that you aren't worth anything. After a while, you start to believe them. But what they said isn't true about either of us." She looked down at the glamour for a moment. "Crystals and stones are good for keeping magic inside them. It makes it easier to make the spell strong and stable. But we can pick something else if you really don't want this."

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said, pulling his wings a little closer to his back. "I didn't think about that. Of it being good for the magic I mean. I just…"

He trailed off, but before he had time to find the right words, Geralt returned, placing the mirror against one of the walls. The mirror was big, taller than the witcher, and had an intricate golden frame. It was one of the best, if not  _ the _ best, mirrors Jaskier had been able to use. Pulled between a wish to look and the knowledge of what he would see, he took a hesitant step closer.

It wasn't… good, he thought. But perhaps not as bad as he remembered either. His hair looked nicer, newly washed the night before, and the same went for his wings, the down fluffier than it usually was, the feathers shinier. He realized that he looked a little healthier too, his ribs not as prominent as before. A very tiny voice in his head told him that under the scars and the worry in his eyes, he looked almost nice. But he quickly smothered that voice, afraid of what would happen if he dared listening to it, dared believing its words.

"This is the one?" Geralt asked, and he quickly turned away from the mirror, to see the witcher looking at the necklace on Yennefer's workbench.

"It may be," Yennefer answered, looking at Jaskier.

"Hm. It's nice."

"You… you think so?" Jaskier asked. "It's not…  _ too _ nice?"

"No," Geralt answered, shaking his head. "It suits you."

Another kind of nervousness made him move his wings and hands a bit, suddenly not sure where he should look. "I can maybe try it on?" he asked the bird book.

"No one was ever going to force you."

Jaskier lifted his gaze again, and gave the witcher a grateful smile. "I know. Thank you." He turned towards Yennefer. "And thank you."

"Thank me when we know it works properly," the sorceress answered, stepping closer to him.

Jaskier nodded and let her put the silver chain around his neck. He had worried slightly that it might remind him of his slave collar, and was relieved to find that it was too loose and too light to do so.

It was a strange sensation as the glamour took hold. He could still feel his wings, but at the same time… not. The closest thing he could compare it to was when he slept on one of his arms, causing it to barely have any feeling when he woke up. But at the same time, it was  _ not _ like that, because none of the strange discomfort was there. Just a kind of soft numbness.

"Are you okay?" Geralt sounded almost worried.

"Yeah… I… I think so. It just feels very strange, but not painful or anything."

Yennefer nodded, clearly pleased with the result. "If it ever gets painful in any way, you take it off." She walked a slow circle around Jaskier, seemingly to make sure nothing was wrong. "Don't try to move your wings too much. The magic should keep them quite close to you, so fighting that isn't a good idea. And don't forget to only use the glamour when you have to."

Jaskier nodded. In his peripheral vision, he could see the mirror, but he had still to look at it. He felt a sudden fear, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what he was afraid to see.

"Jaskier?"

He jumped slightly as Geralt suddenly stood beside him.

"What if it's worse somehow?" he asked quietly.

"It isn't," Geralt answered, placing that warm hand on Jaskier's shoulder again. "But if it is, you'll just take it off."

Jaskier nodded. Geralt was right. He was just overreacting, as always. The magic wasn't permanent, he could remove the glamour any time he wanted.

Taking a deep breath, Jaskier turned towards the mirror. For a few moments, he just looked at his reflection in the glass.

And then he started crying. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really like this chapter. Quite a lot of emotions, but mostly just the nice kind. And I had a lot of fun continuing Geralt and Yennefer's friendly banter. I hope you'll enjoy it too. ^_^ 
> 
> I also got fanart!! (Fanfanart?) The amazing [ Briannorelfhunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/briannorelfhunter/pseuds/briannorelfhunter) made a fantastic painting of Jaskier. [ Just go have a look!!](https://twitter.com/briannorelfhun1/status/1324055930196107267?s=20) It's so pretty! ♡♡♡
> 
> As always, take care and stay safe. And thank you for reading and being such amazing and loving people. You all make me so happy! ♡

"Jaskier? What is it?"

Geralt felt like the only thing he'd done the last couple of minutes was to ask if Jaskier was alright. But the sudden burst of tears was not at all what he had expected, and it made him worried. In an instant, Jaskier was pressed against his chest, gripping Geralt's shirt as he cried. Something that didn't exactly make him  _ less _ worried, even though the fact that Jaskier felt brave or comfortable enough to do that, made Geralt's heart soar.

"They're gone," Jaskier whispered, his voice shaking and somewhat muffled against Geralt. "They're really g- gone."

"Well, not really," Yennefer corrected, and Geralt could hear the caring tone as she spoke. "They will still be there when you take the glamour off."

Ignoring the semantics, Geralt slowly wrapped his arms around Jaskier, ready to pull back at any sign of fear or discomfort. "Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, still not sure why the younger man was crying.

"No! I- I mean, yes! That  _ is _ what I wanted." Jaskier lifted his head enough to glance at their reflections in the mirror behind him. "I just never thought… It actually worked." He turned worried eyes towards Yennefer. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to i- imply…"

Yennefer silenced him with a small wave of her hand. "I know what you mean. No need to explain."

"But you're okay though?" Geralt insisted.

Jaskier nodded, letting go of Geralt's shirt to wipe away his tears. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just… I always wanted to be… normal? I wished for the wings to be gone. And now they are and it's just… it's just a lot. Overwhelming I guess. Sorry I cried on you."

"You can cry on me anytime," Geralt said before he could stop himself. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "That is, I don't want you to cry. At all. Obviously. But if you need to…"

Jaskier smiled a little at that, his cheeks taking on a rather lovely rosy colour. "I understand. Thank you."

The younger man wrapped his arms around Geralt and gave him a hug. And when he let go, Geralt also pulled away. Even though he didn't really want to.

Jaskier spent a couple of minutes, just looking at himself in the mirror, turning back and forth in an attempt to see himself from as many angels as possible. His blue eyes were filled with emotion, and he seemed both elated and hesitant. Geralt and Yennefer let him be, and soon the bard pulled the shirt over his head. Without the wings hidden underneath, the garment looked even bigger than before, now only having to cover Jaskier's slim frame.

"Are you ready?"

Jaskier frowned, clearly confused. "For what?"

"We're going to buy you some new clothes," Geralt answered.

"Why?"

Yennefer made a somewhat undignified sound as she suppressed a laugh. "Because a family of five could live in that shirt."

Jaskier looked halfway between amused and embarrassed.

"Just because your skirts have enough room for a circus," Geralt smirked, getting rewarded with a chuckle from Jaskier.

Yennefer raised her eyebrows in a way that said she wasn't amused, but Geralt could see right through that expression. "A witcher with humor? Now that  _ would  _ be a circus." Putting away a couple of things, she headed for the door. "Let me get my coat and I'll be ready to go."

Geralt frowned. "Wait. You're coming with us?"

"Of course!" She turned around, hands on her hips, and regarded Geralt with a look that said it was the most stupid question she'd heard in a while. "I know your fashion sense, Geralt of Rivia. And all the different colours you usually enjoy."

"Oh yes," Geralt huffed, knowing full well the sorceress preferred colours almost as dark as his own. "Because you yourself are such a veritable rainbow." 

"Do you even know the name of any colour besides black?"

"I'm pretty sure blood is red," he grinned. 

"Your hair is white," Jaskier offered helpfully. 

"Exactly. Thank you."

Yennefer rolled her eyes, not entirely able to keep a smile from her face. "Your knowledge is truly astounding. I apologise for ever doubting you."

"Apology accepted."

"I'm still coming with you though."

Geralt didn't argue. In fact, he was rather happy to have her tag along. Though Jaskier's nerves had seemed pretty bad the first little while after arriving at Yennefer's house, he had relaxed considerably, and both the bard and sorceress clearly enjoyed each other's company. It lifted a weight from Geralt's shoulders to know Jaskier had another person who cared about him. And he had no problems with letting Yennefer tease him when it made Jaskier smile and giggle softly. It felt like an eternity since he'd heard that sound, and he realized he had been afraid that Witold had stolen it away forever.

He was also relieved, though secretly so, to have Yennefer help Jaskier get clothes. Despite his protests, he knew Yennefer had a much better fashion sense than he did. A witcher looked for practical and protective, not style. And Jaskier deserved to have pretty things.

The bard kept close to Geralt as they walked through town. Though the wings were gone, he still hunched a bit, most likely out of habit. Geralt could sense his anxiety rising.

"They're still looking," Jaskier mumbled quietly.

"Hm. They are. But not at you."

Jaskier glanced up at him, clearly confused. "No?"

"No," Geralt said, shaking his head. "They stare at the witcher and the sorceress, not at you."

Jaskier looked around at the people they passed, and his anxiety seemed to change into a slight melancholy. "They shouldn't stare at you either," he whispered, and Geralt felt the bard's hand brush against his own.

"It's fine. Don't worry about me." Still, Jaskier's words were comforting. Usually only his brothers cared about such things.

At the tailor, it quickly became clear that they had quite different ideas of what they should get. Geralt had imagined  _ at least  _ one pair of breaches, two shirts, and a warm cloak. Jaskier was overwhelmed by the very thought of anything more than the most basic shirt he could find.

Luckily, Yennefer was a good negotiator. She sent Geralt to pick out the cloak and other warm and practical things, very much needed now when fall had started to make the weather colder. In the meantime, she took Jaskier to another part of the shop, gently arguing the need for more than one change of clothes, and that he was allowed to pick things he would like instead of just what he thought others would deem right for him.

In the end, they got even more than Geralt could have hoped for. And the fact that Jaskier had chosen some fabrics in dark blue and moss green, not his earlier gray and brown, made it hard for Geralt to not smile like an idiot. He was more than happy to soothe the bard's concerns, every time he asked if those colours were really appropriate for him.

Walking back towards Yennefer's house, Geralt kept a close eye on Jaskier who looked almost a little dazed after their time at the tailor. Despite this, it took a moment for him to notice when the younger man suddenly stopped.

"Jaskier?" he asked cautiously, turning back to where he now stood. 

Following Jaskier's gaze, both he and Yennefer saw the lute, leaning against a wall inside the window of a shop.

Jaskier, noticing them there beside him, seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry. It's just so… I didn't mean to stop."

Geralt regarded the lute for a moment. He didn't know a lot, or anything, about music, but it seemed like a good instrument. Nothing extravagant, but it looked well made and polished, built with care and attention to detail.

"Do you want it?" he asked, almost without thinking. The picture of Jaskier's face, as he told him about his destroyed and burned lute, still vivid in his mind.

The bard shook his head vigorously, looking almost startled. "No, you already got so much for me, I don't need…"

"Maybe not need," Geralt shrugged. "But do you  _ want  _ it?"

"I- I…" Jaskier glanced between him and Yennefer and the window. "Yes..?" he finally whispered.

Geralt just gave a short nod, and stepped into the shop. Buying the lute didn't take long, and when he handed the instrument over to Jaskier, the bard looked like a might cry or laugh or faint. Perhaps all three.

"Thank you." Jaskier's voice was barely audible, and he held the lute like it was made of glass or like someone was going to rip it from his hands. His blue eyes were filled with tears as he looked at Geralt. "I can never pay you back…"

Geralt noticed a slight change in his expression, and he could guess in which direction Jaskier's thoughts were heading. Towards the kind of payment he had tried to give the witcher before.

Geralt placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, wanting to stop those thoughts before they went too far. "You are my friend," he said decidedly. "You don't need a reason to do things for your friends, or give them gifts. I did this because I want you to be happy. Not because I expect something in return. Do you understand?"

"I… Yes. I think so. I just… I don't want to be a burden."

Geralt smiled gently. "You could never be a burden."

Jaskier nodded, still a little shaky. "Can I hug you?"

For a moment, Geralt didn't answer, too surprised by the question. "Yes. If you want to."

"I want to." Careful so as not to damage the lute, Jaskier put his arms around Geralt.

Geralt patted him a little awkwardly on his back, before giving in and returning the hug. Yennefer grinned behind Jaskier, and Geralt knew he wouldn't hear the end of this. But he didn't care. To have Jaskier this near again, especially after how close he'd come to losing the bard, was all that mattered. That, and to see the younger man finally start to feel better.

"Thank you," Jaskier repeated as he let go, rubbing the tears from his eyes and smiling at Geralt.

"Hm. Don't mention it."

Back at the house, Jaskier didn't waste any time. Sitting down on the comfortable couch in the parlour, he carefully tried the lute. In the beginning, there were just soft tentative notes, one or two at the time. But the music soon grew in both volume and confidence, and with the melodies sweeping through the rooms, Geralt realized how much he had missed the sound.

Giving Jaskier some space, he joined Yennefer in her workshop, after moving the mirror back to its usual place.

"I like him," Yennefer noted, putting things back in the many boxes and on shelves.

"Hm." Geralt picked up the bird book Jaskier had left behind in the chair. "He likes you too, I think."

"Well, that's not really a surprise."

Geralt ignored that. "Thank you. For… everything. For being so nice to him."

"I take it he isn't very used to that." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Not really my tale to tell, and I'm not even sure I know everything. But you saw the brand, and the scars."

Yennefer nodded. "I saw."

"His… his  _ owner _ ," Geralt growled the word, "found us. It was such a setback. I worried that…" He trailed off, sighed. "I think that this was good for him though. To see there are others, not just me, who can be kind to him. Who he can trust."

"You killed him, I hope? The owner?"

"Not yet."

Yennefer nodded again, her eyes once more softening. "You know I'm here if you need anything," she said. "Both of you."

"I know. Thank you. And if you need anything…"

"...I have a lot of people who are much more qualified that I can ask," she smirked before heading towards the door. "I'm glad you found him though. That he was able to save you."

Geralt frowned slightly. "Don't you mean the opposite?"

"No. I didn't," she called over her shoulder as she left the room.

Geralt remained in the workshop for a little while, bird book in hand and mind lost in thought. Noticing that the music had stopped, he rose from the chair and made his way back to the parlour.

Jaskier was still there, but had lay down on the couch and was fast asleep. As always, he was on his stomach, the habit not having disappeared together with his wings. The lute was on the floor beside him, and one of his arms hang over the edge of the couch, his fingers touching the polished wood, as if even in sleep he didn't want to be away from the instrument. 

Geralt felt a warm fondness at the sight. It was still early evening, barely past afternoon, but he could hardly blame the bard for being tired. The day had clearly left him overwhelmed and drained. Geralt only hoped that he wasn't in a lot of pain as well.

Not wanting to wake his friend, Geralt decided to ask Yennefer if they could stay overnight. He was pretty sure she would agree. It wasn't like she lacked the room.

Carefully he pulled a blanket over Jaskier, not wanting him to be cold. After a moment's hesitation, he gently stroked the younger man's soft brown hair, brushing it from his face. Jaskier sighed, sounding content, and stirred only a little before once again going still.

In the comfort of not being seen, Geralt smiled down at the sleeping bard, and adjusted the blanket slightly.

"Sleep well," he mumbled softly. "I'll be here when you wake up."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm hoping you're all doing well. Thank you again so much for reading. My mind is constantly blown by the fact that you all like my writing. It makes me so happy!! ♡
> 
> This chapter felt... meh. I had this conversation planned, but then I wrote it and it feels so clunky for some reason. (Maybe because I keep writing through the night instead of actually sleeping.) I hope it's not too bad.
> 
> Also, this cute stuff is really nice, but I'm starting to feel we need some more injuries or sickness or heavy angst soon. I guess we'll see what I can come up with. I've already passed the point of where my planning for this part ended, so I have no idea what I'm doing. Might be great. Might be a shitshow. Only time will tell. :p 
> 
> Love you all!! ♡

They spent a couple of days more in the town before continuing on. Despite the stress at having so many people around, Jaskier wished they could have stayed longer. He missed Yennefer. But she reassured him that they would meet again, and he tried to comfort himself with that.

Geralt found a contract a day later. A lord whose lands and villagers were terrorised by a griffin. They made camp in a small forest nearby, and despite the chill in the air, Jaskier was relieved to once again be camping away from people. It was so much easier to just have Geralt around.

However, it was always a worry to wait for the witcher to return from his hunt. Griffins, Jaskier had learned, could be hard to kill, and he tried to not think about those sharp claws and whether Geralt's armour could withstand them.

"He'll be alright," Jaskier told Roach. "I know he will. Don't worry."

Roach huffed slightly, as if to point out that  _ he _ was the one who was worried.

Putting a bit more wood on the fire, Jaskier returned to his task. He had come up with what he hoped was a good way to modify his new shirts. The clothes Geralt and Yennefer had bought him in town fit much more than his old, too big, shirts. And besides the fact that he wasn't at all used to having clothes his own size, it caused a problem.

Following Yennefer's advice to not wear the glamour more than necessary, Jaskier had realized that that wasn't compatible with his new clothes. His wings had no room in the well fitting shirts, so taking off his glamour ment he had to change or remove what he was wearing. It… really wasn't very practical. And could be dangerous too if they met someone on the road and he had to hide his wings quickly.

So, he had decided to cut the shirts open. Or at least one, to see if it actually worked.

Taking scissors to the beautiful clean fabric felt terrible. Jaskier did several rounds of trying the shirt on to see where to cut, getting ready with the scissors, hesitating, and once again putting the garment on to make sure he hadn't marked it wrong. It didn't really end until he was too cold, and simply had to stop taking his shirt off and on.

Once again wrapped up in his new cloak to stave off the cold, he sat to work. After having told Geralt about his idea, the witcher had supplied him with things for sewing, and a handful of mismatched buttons, apparently left over after clothes that had been thrown away or turned into bandages. ("Sometimes you lose one, and then it's good to have spares.")

After making two long cuts up the shirt's back to the shoulders, Jaskier sat about hemming the edges and putting in buttons at the lower part of the cuts. That left him with two openings for his wings to fit through. He knew it would look strange to anyone who saw the modification, but it could easily be hidden by putting on a doublet or his cloak.

The fact that Jaskier had several pieces of clothing to choose from was dizzying!

By the time Geralt got back, Jaskier was done hemming, and had finished most of the button holes. Relieved to have the witcher by his side again, he put away his shirt. 

"How did it go? The blood is..?"

"Mostly the griffin's," Geralt answered, gritting his teeth as he sat down on a rock near the fire. "But if you want to do some more sewing, I could use your help."

The wound was on the front of Geralt's leg, a place the witcher could easily reach by himself, and the thought of Geralt asking for his help even when he didn't really need it made Jaskier hide a proud smile as he got the supplies together. However, as he worked on cleaning and stitching the injury, his sense of being needed and appreciated slowly turned into a slight embarrassment. Geralt had taken off his trousers to give Jaskier easier access. And though the wound was only just above the knee, Jaskier was more and more aware of the feeling of the witcher's strong thigh under his hands. Even the blood wasn't able to completely distract him. Silently praying that Geralt wouldn't notice his blushing cheeks, Jaskier quickly finished his work.

To Jaskier's relief, Geralt didn't say anything about it. And they simply went about their evening as usual.

But after laying down in his bedroll, Jaskier couldn't sleep. Despite the fire, he was cold enough to shiver, and he just couldn't relax enough to fall asleep.

Geralt must have noticed, because his voice pulled Jaskier from his miserable and restless half sleep.

"Come here."

Jaskier opened his eyes, making out the witcher's face in the flickering light. "What?"

"You don't have to be cold," Geralt said, lifting his arm in a clear invitation for Jaskier to lay closer to him.

Hesitant, but wanting to be saved from the cold if possible, Jaskier moved himself and his bedroll close to Geralt. With slow movements, as if he was afraid to scare Jaskier, the witcher pulled him into his arms. Jaskier couldn't help but stiffen at being so close, but Geralt was so warm and his embrace felt so safe, and Jaskier found himself relaxing almost immediately. After a few moments, he snuggled even closer, pressing his cold nose against the skin of Geralt's chest, where his black shirt was slightly open. He was prepared for Geralt pushing him away or saying that it was too much, too close. But the witcher simply hummed. A noise filled with enough contentment and happiness to make Jaskier smile.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"Hm. You're welcome."

For a while, they simply lay there. Jaskier felt himself slowly warm up, but sleep still eluded him.

"What happens now?"

"Now? We sleep."

Jaskier shook his head. "No, I mean… It's already so cold to sleep on the ground. And when the snow comes… I'm not a witcher, can't stay outside then, but I know we can't afford a room every night."

"Sleeping in snow isn't exactly healthy for witchers either," Geralt answered. "I travel to Kaer Morhen during the winter, spend it with the other witchers, my family. That's why we're heading north. It's not yet time to go there, but it's a bad idea to wait too long and risk the snow."

"Oh." Jaskier wasn't sure what he had hoped for, but he felt his heart sink. "I… I guess I…"

"You don't want to come with me?" He could detect the disappointment in Geralt's voice. "Well, if there's someplace else you'd rather go, I can take you there first."

Unsure, Jaskier looked up at him, even though the dying fire made it harder and harder to see the witcher's face. "I can come with you?"

"Of course."

"But I'm not a witcher."

"It's uncommon, but it won't be the first time someone who's not a witcher visits the keep." Geralt's fingers brushed gently over his cheek. "I'll write ahead, tell the others you're coming."

"Thank you." Jaskier could hear the way his own voice trembled, and he realized just how horrible the thought of being away from Geralt had felt. "I sometimes wish there was though," he whispered after a little while, his face once again warmed against Geralt's chest. 

"What?"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean… I want to come with you. I really do! I just wish I had… somewhere to go. A home. A… a family." He wasn't really sure why he was talking. It was almost like the darkness made it easier to confess his thoughts and feelings. "I can't stop thinking what it would have been like. How it would be if my parents l- loved me."

"Hmm." Geralt slowly stroked Jaskier's hair. "Sometimes parents are nothing more than what brings us into this world. Sometimes we have to make our own family."

"Like having children?"

"That's one way. But there are more ways. Like finding people you care about, and who cares about you." He was silent for a moment. "I have two brothers who are like that. Not brothers in blood, but in everything else. And a… Well I suppose father isn't the right word, but close enough. A mentor. They are my family."

Jaskier nodded quietly. "Will they be at Kaer Morhen?"

"Yes."

It was a somewhat scary thought, to spend winter with four witchers. But Jaskier reminded himself of his fear before meeting Yennefer. And these men were Geralt's family.

A sudden thought made him speak again, before he had time to stop himself. "Would you be my family? If I asked you?"

Geralt's arms momentarily tightened around Jaskier. "I would. Of course I would."

Not yet daring to examine that knowledge closer, Jaskier changed the subject. "I sometimes think about… how it felt to kiss you," he whispered, surprised at his own boldness.

"Hm. Me too."

"I… I want to… do it again, I think. I'm pretty sure. But then I think about what happened after, and I get scared that… I thought I would never see you again."

"I shouldn't have left you," Geralt mumbled into his hair. "I had a bad feeling, but I didn't listen to it. I should have. But what happened wasn't because of the kiss. You know that, right?"

"I know. I… I'm pretty sure I know. I just worry. I know it's stupid."

"It is not stupid. You experienced something traumatic. It's not surprising that your mind is trying to come up with ways to prevent that from happening again. But it was nothing you did."

Jaskier nodded. It made sense. But he still felt like it could have been his fault in some way. That he should have been able to stop it. "He's still out there. He could find me again. He might be looking for me, knowing that I survived the fall." He gripped Geralt harder, almost clinging to him.

"I know. I'm sorry. But I will protect you from him, and I will get him"

"Will you… kill him?" Jaskier asked hesitantly. 

"If you want me to."

"I- I… I don't know." The way his face was buried against Geralt, he was almost surprised that the witcher could still hear him. "I won't be sad if he dies. But I don't… want to be the one to choose. I just don't want to have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life, and I don't want him doing it to anyone else. I suppose… if he could be locked away somewhere… But then I'd still worry that he'd escape. I don't know."

"You don't have to make that decision," Geralt said, his voice a comforting rumble. "And maybe he will have angered someone else, and we won't have to deal with him again at all."

"Maybe." Jaskier somewhat hoped that would be the case. That Witold could just disappear without Jaskier having to see him again. But he also knew that if he didn't get to search Witold's corpse for a pulse, he would most likely never be completely free from the fear of the man coming after him again.

In that moment however, he  _ did _ feel safe. And warm. And he realized how much he had missed sleeping close to Geralt. Hesitating only a moment, Jaskier gently took one of the witcher's hands in his, and pressed a kiss to the rough knuckles and then the palm.

Geralt made a questioning noise.

"Well, I just thought… that last time I kissed your lips," Jaskier answered, hiding a little smile against the calloused skin. "So it should be fine to kiss your hand."

The witcher chuckled, and Jaskier could in return feel a soft kiss in his hair.

Letting the hand go, Jaskier snuggled closer, making himself comfortable. "Will you hold me again?" he asked hopefully.

Geralt didn't answer, simply wrapped his arms around Jaskier again, and tucked the blankets tighter.

Feeling completely warm, Jaskier closed his eyes and let sleep pull him away. His last thought being Geralt's words about finding a family of your own. Maybe Geralt could really be his.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I'm so sorry it's taken so long for me to post a new chapter. My depression has been really bad the last few weeks, and I'm only now starting to feel better.  
> Add to that the fact that I don't really know where this is going, and it has been pretty much impossible to write.   
> I DO have ideas, but I can't really decide in which order stuff should happen. And part of me is like "let's do a four parter, one for each season!!" while another part is like "holy crap, calm down, no one would stick around for that long". So... yeah. Fun stuff.   
> Anyway, I'm so so happy and thankful for all of you who keep reading and leaving comments and kudos (even though I'm terribly behind on answering comments, because of previous reasons). I love all of you and hope you are taking care of yourselves.  
> Thank you for not giving up on me ♡

With the new lute, Geralt had thought Jaskier would start performing again, and when that didn't happen, he felt rather disappointed. It wasn't like they needed the money, but Geralt was quite sure that the act of performing was good for the younger man. Jaskier always seemed more alive when he played, and though he was still anxious, the music clearly helped him to brave having people's eyes on him. Geralt hoped that the lack of performances wouldn't turn out to be a roadblock for Jaskier's slowly growing confidence. Witold's actions had set him back enough as it was. 

He hadn't asked Jaskier, but he was convinced that Witold was the reason the bard saved his music for the small audience of one witcher and one horse. The man had found them after Jaskier had started performing, and even though Geralt didn't have evidence of it, it was a fair guess that that had allowed Witold to know where Jaskier was. And even if it was simply a coincidence… Jaskier already drew connections between their kiss and what had happened after. Whether true or not, the bard would blame Witold capturing him on the fact that he hadn't been hiding as much as before.

The very thought that Jaskier would  _ need _ to hide made Geralt want to kill something.

As it was, he settled for kicking an offending rock out of the way as he walked back towards the inn they were staying at. It was early morning. Geralt had left Jaskier behind in the room to let him get some more sleep while he made their supply run.

As he got back to the inn, a small whimper from inside their room made him freeze for a moment. Fearing what he would find, Geralt hurried to unlock the door, ready to kill anyone who had hurt or frightened the bard.

To his relief and surprise, Jaskier was the only one there. Though Geralt's relief didn't last very long.

Jaskier was on the floor beside the bed, looking pale and like he had been crying and was on the brink of doing so again. He had a hard grip on the bed, trying to use it for support to stand up, but Geralt could clearly see the way his legs trembled. As soon as Jaskier seemed close to standing, his legs would give out under him, making the bard fall back to the floor with a small cry of pain.

Pushing the door closed and dropping his purchases on the floor, Geralt crossed the room in two steps, crouching down beside the bard. "Jaskier? What's wrong?"

Jaskier flinched slightly, clearly not having heard the door. "I'm sorry." He looked helplessly at Geralt as tears began to fall again. "I'm trying, I promise. I really am trying! J- just give me a moment and I'll…" Shaking, he once again made an attempt to stand up, which only resulted in him going paler and almost falling into Geralt as his legs still refused to cooperate.

"Jaskier, calm down. I'm going to lift you back on the bed, okay?" Despite how careful he tried to be, Jaskier still whimpered as Geralt lifted him.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier repeated as Geralt gently put him on the bed.

"Don't be. Just tell me what's wrong. Do your legs hurt?"

Jaskier nodded, and tried to wipe away the new tears. "They… they get really bad sometimes."

Geralt felt a twinge of guilt. "Have we been travelling too fast? Why didn't you tell me? We could have gone slower, or you could have ridden Roach."

"No, it's… it just happens. It probably would have even if we hadn't travelled at all." Jaskier hesitated, the worry clear in his eyes. "I should have told you. I'm sorry. Are you mad?"

Geralt sighed slightly, and lifted Jaskier's hand to give his knuckles a little kiss. "I'm not mad. Just worried. And I don't want you to be in pain. Are you sure there's no reason behind it?"

"No, I don't think so. It can happen any time. Though… a bit more often this time of year." He gave Geralt a tentative smile. "My legs prefer summer, not cold and wet weather."

"Then we should at least keep them warm while they rest." Getting up from the bed, Geralt carefully pulled off Jaskier's boots and piled blankets over him before starting a fire in the now cold fireplace. "Better?"

Jaskier looked at him with his big blue eyes. Wrapped up in blankets like that he looked small ( _ and cute _ , an unhelpful voice in Geralt's head added) but still a bit anxious, as if he was trying to figure out what was going to happen next.

"It's… nice. Cozy. Thank you." He bit his lower lip. "But being warm doesn't really help with the pain, I'm sorry."

Geralt nodded. He understood that. He just wanted to make Jaskier as comfortable as possible, and hopefully prevent the pain from growing even worse. "You stay there and keep warm."

"Okay. What will you do?"

"I'm headed back out."

"No!" The words made Jaskier sit bolt upright. He looked panicked and his pain was evident when he tried once again to get out of bed. "Please! Please, don't leave me. I can walk, I promise! I- I'm feeling much better! Please don't leave me!"

Realizing that he should have worded his answer differently, Geralt hurried back to the bed to keep Jaskier from getting out of it. "I'm not leaving, I swear. I'm not leaving you."

"But you said…"

"Yes, I'm going back out to find something for your pain. But I won't be long. I won't leave you."

Jaskier didn't look entirely convinced, but let Geralt help him lay back down. "You're not… mad that I'm stopping you from continuing?"

"I'm not mad," Geralt answered, once again arranging the blankets to make the bard comfortable and warm. "I'm mad at the people who caused you to have to live with this pain, but I'm not mad at you."

"But if it wasn't for me…"

"...I wouldn't allow myself the comfort of a proper bed another night. I am not mad at you at all. We're in no hurry."

Jaskier regarded him for a moment more before apparently believing him, as he nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

"You just rest. I'll be back soon."

It didn't take long for Geralt to find the healer. On his way back he passed by a bakery, the scent of freshly baked bread and cakes wafting out on the street. He barely needed a second to think about it.

When he returned to their room, Jaskier looked calmer.

"You're back."

"And you're resting."

Despite the pained tension in his face, Jaskier smiled, and his eyes followed Geralt as he put more wood on the fire and prepared tea.

"Here. This should help." Putting an arm around Jaskier to steady him, he helped the bard to sit up enough to drink the tea. The herbs in it were strong, the healer had promised that it would numb even the worst of pains, and Geralt just hoped she was right. Seeing Jaskier like this was terrible.

"It's disgusting," Jaskier grimaced as he handed the empty cup back to Geralt.

"I have a remedy for that too, if you can sit up for a while longer."

Taking out his second purchase, Geralt was rewarded with an expression of amazement on Jaskier's face. "You mean… it's for me?" the bard asked, almost staring at the small vanilla cake covered in sugar.

"Yes."

"Can we really afford that?"

"Well, if we couldn't, it's too late now anyway." Jaskier's worried eyes turned to him, and Geralt shook his head apologetically. "I'm joking. We can afford it. And more importantly, you're worth it."

He could see Jaskier blush slightly as the younger man accepted the cake. The first tentative bite made his eyes fall shut, and he almost groaned in pleasure. Geralt made very sure not to react to it.

However, Jaskier only had one more piece before handing the cake back to Geralt. "That is amazing. Thank you, Geralt. But I think I have to lay down again now."

"Of course," Geralt nodded, and helped him down again. "Do you want me to rub your legs?"

Jaskier hesitated a moment before shaking his head. "No. I usually like it, but… right now they hurt too much. I think it would only make it worse. Maybe later?"

"Whenever you want, dandelion."

Geralt barely registered what he had said before Jaskier stared at him. "Dandelion?"

"Hm." He rubbed his neck, feeling very awkward all of a sudden. "I thought you were a bit like one. Underappreciated. And dandelions can survive even in the worst environments. They still grow. And turn out pretty and sunny. Like… hm… like you."

To his horror, Jaskier's eyes slowly filled with tears. "You… you can't say things like that," he whispered.

He really had fucked up, hadn't he. "Sorry. I won't call you that again, I-"

Jaskier smiled through the tears, making Geralt go silent again. "No, I mean… I could never be a witcher, so you don't get to become the poet."

"Trust me, I won't," Geralt chuckled, feeling relief wash over him.

Jaskier rubbed his face free from tears. "You really think that? About me?"

"No. I think you're an idiot who scares me half to death."

"I'm sorry," Jaskier answered, though he, for once, didn't look or sound like he really meant it.

Geralt gently stroked the bard's hair, allowing his hand to be captured and held by Jaskier. "Yes. I think that. Lesser men wouldn't have survived."

Jaskier just looked at him, with something in his eyes that Geralt couldn't really decipher. And then he gently tugged Geralt closer, until their lips pressed against each other. It was a small kiss. Almost more chaste and trembling than that first one in the meadow, a lifetime ago. But it still managed to fill Geralt with warmth and happiness.

When Jaskier broke it, Geralt didn't try to prolong. Even though he would have wanted to, the knowledge that Jaskier, despite his fears, had kissed him again felt like an enormous trust, and he didn't want to destroy that. Instead he tucked him in a bit more, gently brushing his fingers through the soft hair.

"You should try to get some rest."

Jaskier nodded. He was still holding onto Geralt's hand as his eyes started falling shut. The lines of pain had finally faded a bit. The tea seemed to be working. "You won't eat my cake while I sleep, right?"

Gerat chuckled. "No promises, dandelion. No promises."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's taking longer and longer between me posting chapters. Sorry about that. I'm so very grateful that you're still sticking around, even when you have to wait. ♡ I'm still very behind on answering comments, but I have read them all several times. They give me warm fuzzy feelings every time. ^_^
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to [angry-ace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angry_ace/pseuds/angry_ace/). Maybe not the best chapter for getting serotonin, but I hope it helps a little bit at least. ♡

Despite Geralt's threats, the cake was still there when Jaskier woke again. And despite Geralt's protests, Jaskier managed to convince him that he should have half of it.

It took the rest of the day and most of the next, before Jaskier's pain finally faded to a more normal and manageable level. Geralt stayed with him the entire time, fetching him food and drink and making sure he was as comfortable as possible. Jaskier felt immensely thankful, thinking back to all the times he had had to take care of himself, but it was hard to not feel useless too. Jaskier was holding up their continued travel, and stopped Geralt from doing something more important than sitting by Jaskier's side and sharpening his swords to death.

But no matter how many times Jaskier tried to apologise, Geralt would have none of it. And every time Jaskier mentioned something else Geralt could be doing instead, the witcher just hummed or gave an answer which made it sound like he was completely happy just staying there, in Jaskier's company. It was equal parts heartwarming and infuriating, and Jaskier did his best to focus on the happiness at having Geralt there, instead of the anxious thought that the witcher probably just stayed out of pity.

It was a relief to finally be able to tell Geralt that he felt well enough to leave. Alas, it was not to be.

"Change of plans," Geralt announced, stepping back into the room he had left not more than half an hour earlier.

Jaskier was sitting on the edge of the bed, packing the last of their things while Geralt had gone to prepare Roach. "Change?"

"New contract," Geralt answered. "Are you alright with another night here?"

"Of course," Jaskier nodded, though part of him wanted to leave. But as long as it wasn't Jaskier forcing them to stay, it was probably fine. "What is it?"

"Griffin."

Geralt had pulled one of his swords from its sheath, and was regarding it as if he tried to decide if it needed more sharpening. Jaskier very much doubted it could get sharper even if Geralt tried. By now, the sword was probably able to cut a spider's thread in half lengthwise.

Putting the blade back, Geralt turned to Jaskier with an expression that he couldn't really decipher. Maybe apologetic? Or slightly embarrassed?

"And we need to talk about that." Geralt came closer, sitting down on the bed beside Jaskier, who tried his best to not fear those words.

"We do?"

Geralt must have sensed his trepidation, because he gave Jaskier a slight smile. "Don't worry. Nothing's wrong. Just… hm… Griffins are… dangerous."

Jaskier nodded. "Aren't they all dangerous?"

"Yes, but some creatures more than others." Geralt hesitated, as if trying to decide how to continue. "I'm not accusing you of anything. You've been very good at staying behind when I've asked you. I just want to… Well, if you've ever thought about coming with me despite that… Don't let it be this time. Please?"

"Of course. I promise."

Geralt looked as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you."

Taking the witcher's hand in his, Jaskier smiled slightly. "I don't know how to feel about this though. Should I be worried about you wanting to warn me like this? Or proud that you think I'm brave enough to come with you?"

"You're always brave," Geralt answered, placing a soft kiss against Jaskier's temple. "And you don't have to worry. I'll be back before dark."

But Jaskier  _ did  _ worry. He worried a lot. It was always a bit nerve wracking to wait for Geralt to return from a hunt, it wasn't like being a witcher was a safe occupation, but it was even worse now that Geralt had pointed out the heightened danger of this contract.

At least Jaskier had the warm comfort of their rented room to wait in. It allowed him to rest away a bit more of the last days' pain, something he was thankful for. His mind, though, was not as easy to rest. Thoughts of Geralt and the griffin danced through his head, and it was hard not to get wrapped up in the worry over sharp claws, terrifying heights and a crushing beak. Jaskier played his lute softly in an attempt to keep himself calm, but it wasn't entirely successful.

And as darkness started to fall, his worry grew into fear. Geralt had said he'd be back before dark. What if something had happened to him? Had he gotten hurt? Maybe so badly that he couldn't get back? Should Jaskier go and look for him? But what if Geralt returned and Jaskier wasn't in the room?

He wouldn't even contemplate the possibility that the witcher was dead. He couldn't. Geralt would return. Because Jaskier didn't know what he'd do without him.

"Please, Geralt," he whispered, rubbing away the mist formed by his breath against the cold window.

As if summoned by Jaskier's words, the door suddenly opened, revealing the witcher.

"Geralt!" Relief flowed through Jaskier as he hurried towards the man, only to stop dead in his tracks. "G… Geralt?"

The witcher looked paler than usual, his skin almost grey, and he swayed slightly where he stood. And there was blood. So much blood. Geralt seemed covered in it, and there was already a growing puddle on the floor between his feet. Jaskier stared in horror, the sound of new drops of blood hitting the floor almost deafening in the quiet of the room.

"Srry 'm late."

The words snapped Jaskier out of his paralysed state, and he practically threw himself towards Geralt. It was most likely a good thing, because the witcher's legs seemed to give out in almost the same moment, and he might have hit his head or gotten more hurt if he had fallen without anyone there to catch him. As it now was, Jaskier grabbed a hold of Geralt, gasping as he got hit by almost the full weight of the witcher.

Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe Geralt's kindness towards him had made him a bit healthier and stronger. Jaskier would never know. But somehow he managed to get Geralt to the bed before they both collapsed. The witcher groaned in pain, and Jaskier didn't allow himself even a moment's rest before he started taking off Geralt's armour.

He was glad he'd done it plenty of times by now. If not, it would have taken even longer than it did. With his shaking hands, the slippery blood, and a heavy witcher who couldn't really roll over when needed, an eternity seemed to pass before the last piece fell to the floor. Clothing was easier. Jaskier didn't even feel guilty as he got a knife and cut Geralt's shirt open.

He could mend a ripped shirt. He couldn't mend a dead witcher.

With the shirt off, the injuries, which Jaskier had somewhat sensed before but was now able to make out, was even worse. So much worse. There were claw marks, long and deep, almost all the way across Geralt's torso, and Jaskier was sure he could see white bone under the blood.

With a pained cry, he got the bag with their medical supplies, thankful that they had been about to leave before, which meant everything was neatly packed together. Geralt didn't seem to have moved, and Jaskier wasn't sure if the witcher was still conscious or not. With so much blood loss, it wasn't really strange if he had fainted. Jaskier didn't know how he had even managed to get back to the inn.

Trying to keep his mind calm and his hands steady, Jaskier prepared needle and thread, only to hesitate with the tip of the needle almost touching Geralt's skin. Was stitching him up really enough? With the wounds so deep, wouldn't it just cause the injury to keep bleeding, but with the blood having nowhere to go? Jaskier needed to stop the bleeding first, but how could he do that when Geralt's entire chest seemed to have been ripped open? Jaskier didn't know what to do. This was so much worse than any injury he had helped Geralt with before. But if he did nothing, Geralt would surely die.

"What sh- should I do?" he asked shakily. "What do you need?"

But Geralt didn't answer, and Jaskier felt the panic of having to make a decision on his own. He needed to help Geralt. Every second he hesitated could be the second which made it too late to help at all. But if he chose wrong, did wrong, it could be equally devastating.

His own breathing turned ragged and faint, as panic wrapped its hands around his throat, making it harder to breathe. He wanted Geralt to tell him what to do. He wanted to hide in a corner and cry. He couldn't do this! He was no healer!

Healer.

A tiny spark of desperate hope entered Jaskier together with the thought. He could get someone. Someone who knew what to do, who could  _ actually  _ help.

Praying that he was doing the right thing, Jaskier grabbed all the bandages he could find and wrapped them around Geralt's torso. Hopefully it would slow the bleeding enough that the witcher wouldn't bleed out while Jaskier was gone.

Deciding that he had done all he could, Jaskier brushed some hair, partly stained by the blood, out of Geralt's face.

"I'll be back soon. I p- promise. Just… just hang on, alright?" He hesitated only a moment before pressing his lips against Geralt's. "Please, don't leave me."

It took all the strength Jaskier had to pull away from the witcher. Every fiber in his body screamed for him to stay, to try, to make sure that Geralt didn't have to be alone. But he forced himself towards the door, barely registering how blood now covered his hands and the front of his shirt. The few patrons downstairs stared at him as he passed by, but Jaskier hardly noticed them. They weren't important. The only thing that was important was to get the healer.

He could only pray that Geralt would still be alive when he returned. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp!* What is this?! Two chapters in the same week?! O_o  
> No, you're not hallucinating. And though I don't dare to promise anything, I do have the next chapter planned out. It just needs to be written. So... should be pretty quick, right? (Famous last words)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and for leaving kudos and comments. My cat probably thinks I'm a bit crazy, because I get all giddy and make a lot of happy noises every time I get a new notification. ^_^   
> I feel like I'm always saying this, but your support means so much to me, and I can't believe how many of you enjoy my writing. This is so much more than I was expecting when I started posting here.  
> So thank you! I love you all! You're the best readers anyone could wish for! ♡♡♡

Geralt floated in darkness for a long while, sometimes almost reaching full consciousness, and other times slipping deeper down. He felt tired, and there was a burning pain in his chest, which ebbed and flowed in rhythm with his consciousness.

Sometimes, when he was closer to being awake, he could hear things. Voices. Hushed whispers. Someone crying. A couple of times, he heard someone beg, but he wasn't sure if the words were directed at him or somebody else. He didn't really have the strength to worry about it anyway. 

However, a thought kept nagging him, slipping away every time he was about to reach it. It was very frustrating. Even more so since he knew it was something important. Something he had to do?

He could feel hands pushing against his chest, making the pain worse. And others, more gentle, which stroked his hair and his face.

That second pair of hands were important, somehow. The way they made him feel. It was something he had to do or say, but thinking of it soon brought on a headache. He wished for the hands to return, to sooth away his pains. They had felt soft like feathers.

...feathers… wings…

That was the important thing! It was-

"Jaskier."

Geralt opened his eyes, and blinked at the darkness of the room. It must have been night, because the only light came from a mostly burned down candle. He was laying in a bed. The pain was still there, though it had dulled into more of a throbbing ache, and as he looked down, he could see someone had wrapped his chest in bandages.

It took him a moment trying to remember what had happened, but parts of it remained vague and fuzzy. He remembered the griffin, and how he was just getting the upper hand on it when its mate appeared. He remembered the pain as claws ripped him open before he managed to kill both creatures. But after that..?

His head had been filled with the singular thought of Jaskier and of having to return to him, but he couldn't remember how he'd managed to actually  _ do  _ that. He probably had Roach to thank for that.

And he would have to thank Jaskier for patching him up again. Though, when he scanned the room, the bard wasn't there.

He was just about to start worrying, when a soft noise came from next to the bed, and Geralt leaned over the edge to look. There, on the floor, lay Jaskier, wrapped up in a blanket. He looked exhausted, and Geralt wished he had chosen to share the bed with him instead of picking the floor. Though he guessed Jaskier had been worried about taking too much room or hurting him. Not that Geralt would have cared if he did.

Geralt reached down to comb his fingers through the bard's soft brown hair, giving him a smile which would have made his brothers laugh if they saw it. Maybe still a little out of it, it wasn't until Jaskier was already waking that Geralt thought he should have let the younger man sleep.

Jaskier sat bolt upright, his eyes almost immediately filling with tears.

"You're awake." It sounded too much like a broken whisper for Geralt's liking. "You're… you're alive, and awake."

"I am," Geralt answered, taking back his hand as Jaskier pulled away slightly.

"Are you alright? I… I was so scared. I thought you… There was so much blood, and your bones and… and…"

"I'm sorry I scared you," Geralt said, feeling a pang of guilt, even though it hadn't really been his fault. "But I'm fine. You've clearly taken good care of me."

He had ment the words as comfort, encouragement, but instead, Jaskier's expression changed in a way he didn't have time to fully understand before the bard's gaze turned towards the floor.

"I didn't do very much," he whispered. "It was the healer."

"The healer?" Geralt frowned. "We could afford that?"

The reason he had taken the contract in the first place was  _ because  _ they were almost out of money. But perhaps Jaskier had had a bit more hidden away, or had played at the inn.

Jaskier nodded. "I… I got the money. Don't worry. I couldn't… I couldn't let you die."

"I wasn't going to die," Geralt smiled, trying to reassure the bard. "I know it looked bad, but witchers heal fast. I would probably have been fine, even without a healer."

Jaskier seemed to tremble slightly, most likely remembering what Geralt must have looked like when he showed up. It couldn't have been pretty.

"You… you would?" Jaskier whispered, still not looking at Geralt. "Even if I'd just..?"

Geralt hesitated, not sure about Jaskier's reaction. "Most likely. This is a lot more preferable, though."

Jaskier just nodded silently. He looked so small there on the floor, fragile in a way Geralt couldn't really pinpoint. Despite his words about being fine, he was exhausted, and the headache had been steadily growing. He longed to get back to sleep, but Jaskier was clearly still upset after seeing Geralt injured in such a way. 

"Aren't you cold on the floor?"

"It's fine." Jaskier's voice was still too quiet. "I didn't want to be in the way, not when you were so hurt."

"You're never in the way."

Geralt reached out to touch Jaskier, to try and comfort him in some way. But as soon as his fingers met Jaskier's shoulder, the younger man immediately got up from the floor.

"The healer left something to help with the pain," he said, crossing the room to fetch a small bottle on the table.

Geralt watched his retreating back, not sure if it had been a coincidence, or if Jaskier had moved away because he didn't  _ want  _ Geralt to touch him. Probably a coincidence, right? And the way Jaskier's shoulders looked a bit tense was most likely from sleeping on the floor, and from worrying about Geralt. As soon as he felt a bit better, he would make sure to cheer the bard back up. Maybe he could buy him something nice with the money from the contact?

Right now, though, he was too tired.

Jaskier returned to the bed, and Geralt accepted the mug he was handed.

Grimacing, he downed the bitter tasting liquid. "That's terrible."

"I know, I'm sorry. But it helps."

"You know?" Geralt asked, curious, as he handed back the mug.

There was the faintest trace of a smile on Jaskier's lips, there, and gone again just as fast. "You made that same face every time I gave it to you. But you slept easier afterwards, so… I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have."

Geralt shook his head, already feeling the potion starting to drag him back to sleep. "Don't apologise for taking care of me." It was increasingly harder to keep his eyes open. "And you can sleep here. You won't hurt me."

"I… Yes. Maybe I'll do that."

"Good," he mumbled, falling asleep before he could feel Jaskier getting into the bed.

The next time Geralt woke up, he was hoping to find Jaskier there beside him, but he was still the bed's only occupant. He couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed.

Careful of his injuries, he sat up. Early morning light was shining in through the window, and that, in combination with Geralt's head feeling much better, allowed him to take in more of the room. Clothes hung above and around the fireplace, his weapons were neatly arranged on the table, and his armour looked as if it had been recently cleaned.

In fact, the whole room was surprisingly clean, considering Geralt had been bleeding all over the place.

Now that he was fully awake and aware, Geralt realized that what he'd told Jaskier might have been… a bit of an overstatement. There was a clear possibility that Geralt would have just bled out if no one had at least wrapped his wounds, or given him the right witcher potions. But he couldn't really regret having exaggerated his healing properties. Jaskier had been so shaken up, and Geralt only wanted to lessen his fears a bit, convince him that it hadn't been such a close call.

A quiet sob drew Geralt's attention towards a corner at the opposite side of the room. Without hesitation, he got out of bed to follow the sound around the table.

Jaskier looked up at him from where he was sitting, and quickly tried to rub away his tears, even though his red rimmed eyes still told the story of how much he'd cried.

"You're awake. I'm sorry, I- I didn't hear you. I'll-" He made a motion as if to get up from the floor, but stopped when Geralt kneeled in front of him.

"Jaskier. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

Geralt had to force himself not to sigh. "Please. If you're still worried, you don't have to be."

For a moment, the bard looked as if he was about to say something, but then quickly lowered his head. "It's n- nothing."

But Geralt barely heard the whisper, because in the light of day, more things than just the clean room and clothes were easier to see. Especially when Jaskier, maybe not aware, maybe not thinking about it, bared his neck for Geralt.

"Jaskier. Who gave you those bruises?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Na na na na na na na na  
> Na na na na na na na na  
> Flashbaaack!!
> 
> Holy crap you guys! This got... heavy. And long. I knew it would be angsty, but my plan was to have some comfort in the end of the chapter. But then it turned into 2k words of Jaskier having a super bad time, and there wasn't really any room for the comfort if I didn't want to make this chapter like... twice as long as the others.  
> So I guess, grab a tissue, and know that next chapter will be better? (Sorry?)
> 
> Speaking of next chapter. I was gonna joke and say that now that you've gotten so many chapters in such a short time, the next one will be posted in six months. But after writing this, it might not be the best to even joke about you having to wait for so long. Haha!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't feel too bad. Geralt will kiss it better. I promise. ♡

Finding the healer was blessedly easy. Turns out that if you stumble along the street, covered in blood and looking panicked, you don't have to speak much, people just point you in the right direction. Jaskier would have been very thankful if his mind had had room for anything besides the thought of Geralt dying alone while he was away.

The healer was a stern looking woman with graying hair and a thin nose. Jaskier wanted nothing more than to apologise and leave her doorstep, but he forced himself to stay, to talk. Geralt needed him. He had to help him.

"Please, my… my friend… There was a griffin, and… and… H- he's very hurt, please help him."

It was impossible to keep his voice or breathing steady, but thankfully the healer seemed to understand him enough. She disappeared inside to gather her things before following him back to the inn.

Geralt was still alive, though looked almost worse than when Jaskier left him. Or maybe Jaskier had simply blocked out how bad it actually was.

Stumbling over to the bed, Jaskier was surprised to find the healer still standing just inside the door. She took in Geralt and the room with an almost disgusted look.

"He's a witcher."

Jaskier didn't know what to say, and only felt the panic growing again. "Y… yes?"

"I don't treat witchers."

She turned around as if to leave, and Jaskier tried not to sob as he pulled away from Geralt to follow her.

"No! Please! Please, help him!"

More afraid for Geralt than of her, he fell to his knees and grabbed desperately for the hem of her skirt.

"Please. I'm begging you. I'll give you a- anything, do anything. You don't even have to treat all the injuries, just… just…" He struggled with finding the words through his fear and the feeling of revealing his innermost thoughts and feelings to this cold woman who was the only thing standing between Geralt and death.

"He's my friend. He's… I have no one else. Please, save him. He c- can't die.  _ Please. _ "

She didn't answer, but she didn't leave either.

Jaskier scrambled to his feet, and quickly retrieved what little money he and Geralt had left. "Please," he repeated, barely daring to look at her if it, for some reason, would make her more angry.

There was a moment of silence while they just stood there, the money held out between them. The healer was seemingly considering the situation, and Jaskier was barely able to breathe.

"It's not enough."

"I- I'll get more! I swear!"

"Hm." The sound wasn't nearly as comforting as when it came from Geralt. "Fine."

Jaskier sat quietly beside the bed, holding one of Geralt's hands while the healer worked. Even though he knew, or at least hoped, that this would save the witcher, his heart kept beating hard and fast enough to almost be painful. His desperate grip on Geralt's hand was as much, if not more, for himself as for Geralt.

The thought of how to get the money, at least gave him something to focus on. Something that wasn't the fear of seeing his friend die. His first idea had been to simply take his lute downstairs and get some coin by playing for the other patrons and customers. But his hands wouldn't stop shaking.  _ His whole body  _ wouldn't stop shaking. He would never be able to get through even one song. He had to find another way.

Though the healer left him with the threat of calling on the guard if Jaskier tried to go back on their deal, Jaskier was thankful that she at least gave him some time to get the money.

He didn't want to leave Geralt. The thought of the witcher waking up alone and in pain was horrible, but if he wanted to pay the healer, he had to go. Changing out of his bloody clothes, the fabric somewhat stiff where the blood had dried, Jaskier gathered what little things he had that could possibly be worth anything. It wasn't much, and it felt like somewhat of a betrayal to the generosity of Geralt and Yennefer, but he had to try. The knowledge of what he would most likely have to do hovered in the back of his mind like a dark cloud, but Jaskier refused to even consider it. At least not yet.

It wasn't until later, when he returned to the room without having sold anything more than his warm cloak, that he allowed the thought more space.

"I… I tried," he whispered to Geralt. The witcher was still unconscious, and Jaskier was almost relieved. It was hard enough to keep the tears and nausea at bay without Geralt having to see it. The witcher's hand was warm in his, and Jaskier tried to gather strength from it, from the knowledge that he was saving his friend.

"I tried, but… no one was interested in anything. Maybe if it was market day or… at least not n- night…" He drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I know you won't… approve, and I u- understand why. But I have to. There's nothing else… I can't try selling your things, especially not when you're not even awake, and I don't know what else I could even try."

He allowed himself to sit with Geralt a little while longer, doing his best to ignore the knowledge that it would most likely be the last time he touched the witcher. Hopefully he would still be allowed to travel with him.

Knowing that he couldn't put it off any longer, Jaskier finally rose from the edge of the bed and pressed a soft kiss against Geralt's knuckles.

"I'll be back soon, I promise." A moment's hesitation. "Please don't hate me."

Later, when Jaskier was forced up against the wall in a cold alley, his breaches around his ankles and an iron grip around his neck, he comforted himself with the knowledge that at least Geralt would live.

The healer didn't ask where or how he got the money, and Jaskier didn't say anything about it. Maybe she could guess, but he was too tired to care.

The shaking had tempered off somewhat, but it returned in full force as Jaskier stepped back into the room. Only the sight of Geralt, still breathing, still alive, kept him from breaking down completely.

He was tired, so very tired, not just in his body but in his very soul. But despite being both exhausted and in pain, the thought of sleeping was almost laughable. He didn't know what from the last hours his nightmares would be made of, he just knew they would be there, and at that moment he couldn't deal with them. His thoughts felt numb and chaotic at the same time, too few and too many. He couldn't think clearly, and at the same time, every second of what had happened and what was going to happen was etched into his brain with a dagger. It was almost physically painful.

Desperate to get away from his own mind, and maybe tire himself out enough to get a dreamless sleep, Jaskier got to work cleaning.

After fetching water from the well outside, he started by scrubbing away all the blood on the floor. His body protested, but he didn't care. A part of him barely even felt it.

He continued with both his own and Geralt's clothes, washing them and hanging them as close to the fireplace as possible. He carefully wiped the blood from Geralt's swords and cleaned his armour.

In the end, the only thing left was himself. By this time, he was so exhausted he could barely stand. But he still heated up more water. Maybe the water was a little too hot, and the cloth a little too rough, but Jaskier didn't care. He scrubbed away every trace of what he had done, what he had allowed to be done, and then continued in the hopes of scrubbing away the feelings too.

Of course it didn't work. Just like he knew it wouldn't. The hands were still there, the filth, the knowledge of what had happened.

It wasn't until Geralt made a pained noise that Jaskier was pulled away from his almost frenzied attempts at getting himself clean. By then, his skin was red and raw, and the water was starting to go cold.

He pulled on his old shirt. The new colourful ones seemed far too nice for someone like him, and there was a comfort, however small, in having a lot of fabric to hide in. Jaskier hesitated beside the bed. He didn't want to touch Geralt. It felt wrong,  _ he  _ felt wrong, and he wasn't sure Geralt would even want to have him close. But the pained expression on the witcher's face forced him to do it anyway. As gently as he could, he helped Geralt drink the potion thei healer had left for him. The witcher grimaced, making Jaskier's worry spike again, before he seemingly relaxed.

Still not sure if he could or even wanted to sleep, Jaskier settled down on a blanket beside the bed. That way he would be close by if Geralt needed anything. He barely had time to lay down before he fell asleep.

It was an immense relief to wake up and see Geralt awake. But soon, it all became even worse than before.

Jaskier did his best not to touch the witcher when not absolutely necessary. He didn't feel any cleaner than before, and barely less tired. He knew it was stupid to feel like Geralt could somehow get dirtied from Jaskier's touch, but that didn't stop him from feeling it.

And then Geralt started explaining how it hadn't actually been that bad. That witchers healed quickly. That he would have been fine even without help.

And Jaskier felt something in his chest crack.

It was all he could do to keep himself together until Geralt fell back asleep. Once again alone, he didn't even try to hold back the tears.

It had all been for nothing.

After everything Geralt had done for him. After all the kindness and the reassurance that Jaskier was worth something. After having bought Jaskier clothes and the lute and gotten him the glamour. After kissing him, allowing someone like Jaskier to be so close and so cared for, almost… loved. After all that, Jaskier had turned and thrown it all away. He had spat on Geralt's kindness and on their friendship. He had proven Geralt wrong and everyone else right, by going back to what he had always done. Always  _ been. _

Geralt had told him he could be anything he wanted, and that he was deserving of kindness and happiness. And Jaskier had taken the first chance he got to go out and let people fuck him.

Again.

And for no reason.

_ But that's all you're good for, isn't it? All you've ever been good for. You'll never be anything other than a useless whore. How naive to think otherwise.  _

He wanted to leave, to go before Geralt woke up again and realized what Jaskier had done, how he had betrayed him. But the shaking was worse again, and it felt like he could barely breathe. If he tried to stand and walk out, he would most likely just fall and hit his head, or maybe break something, and it would only make him into more of a burden and nuisance.

So he stayed. He stayed and he cried. And he thought of the sharp swords on the table, and if he could possibly use one without getting blood everywhere.

And then, suddenly, Geralt appeared in front of him, and asked Jaskier what was wrong. But there was no way for Jaskier to answer. He knew he was only deceiving Geralt further, but if he could just keep it all a secret, maybe the witcher would allow him to stay until he wasn't shaking so much, until he could breathe, could think.

So he lied, even though he knew it was useless.

And then Geralt asked where he had gotten the bruises, and Jaskier knew it was all over.


End file.
